what you don't notice
by TrunksIzayaBossKadoDRRRotaku
Summary: It's funny how a person can completely vanish into thin air and do it successfully. Sick of the lies, sick of the betrayal, young Harry Potter, knowing he is a sociopath, falls completely into the darkness and enjoys it, faking his death. Eight years later, he is one Izaya Orihara, living a life free from the deception, free of magic...this is his story of how he became a muggle.


_Summary: It's funny how a person can completely vanish into thin air and do it successfully. Sick of the lies, sick of the betrayal and downright deceit, a young boy known as Harry Potter retreats into the darkness of his mind and loses it, falling into the sheer bliss known as insanity, and eight years later, is still living a lie...only, free of all of it, free of all the madness...he is now Izaya Orihara. Free of magic, free of the 'title' of savior, and being a puppet, this is his story. _

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><p><strong>AN:Another little oneshot centered around an AU Game of the Future, where Izaya leaves the Wizarding World much later and is canon age. Some differences from the main plot, but basically the same. More of Izaya's views on things, and what not. Harry/Izaya will have more sociopathic traits at a younger age and in this one, he just leaves and is integrated into his family later, meets Shinra and Shizuo later, so just expect everything to happen...and some anti-Hogwarts rants. Oneshot only, sorry. I know some of you might want more out of this, but this is only a short oneshot fic, so read Game of the Future if you haven't done so already after reading this. I only wanted to do more on this kind of thing. **

**What you don't notice-**

It had been a terrible war; a terrible war between the dark side and the light side. Both sides had suffered countless losses and deaths and tragedy; countless lives destroyed by the evil Lord Voldemort, and on the light side, there was Albus Dumbledore.

But his best proposed theory was that...of...a secret that he was not going to divulge to any ordinary human being. It would be way too easy to divulge his secrets to an ordinary human being, and it would not do for his plans of wanting to control the wizarding world. And more importantly, he had his eyes set on James and Lily Potter's son, Harry. It was very, very, very simple.

On the day that Voldemort killed James and Lily Potter, what he was not expecting was for the infant Harry to look up at him from his crib, with eager, calm eyes, eyes that looked too intelligent to be those of a toddler's. The baby didn't cry out for his mother, or his father.

Instead, he just looked at him with a bored look on his face and spoke calmly, "Just kill me already. I'm bored." He said in a high-pitched voice.

Voldemort's mouth fell open as he stared at the infant before him.

"Honestly, you're boring. Mummy and Daddy are more interesting. Where are they?" He asked.

"Mummy and Daddy are dead," Voldemort said.

The kid just looked at him and then sighed. "Don't care," He said flatly.

The second that Voldemort cast the killing curse, the boy just dodged, lazily.

"Missed," He said darkly, and the last thing Voldemort felt was some kind of tremendous power destroying him and he could've sworn he'd heard the infant let out some kind of evil cackle.

Whenever Dumbledore arrived, he found James and Lily dead, and the boy sitting up on his bed, smiling, as though there was nothing wrong with his parents being dead. Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at first, but he paid it no mind and instead picked up the child, who was still smiling as he left the premises and put him on Petunia and Vernon's doorstep.

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><p>Petunia and Vernon first noticed there was something...well, off about their nephew that they'd pretty much made a slave out of and forced him to do whatever they wanted. How could there not be something odd about him? He was a freak. He was a wizard, for god's sake, it's what he would always be.<p>

For some reason, Petunia noticed some portions of food seemed to be missing from her house. It seemed like Harry had been sneaking around the house at night, and when the blasted brat had found their food, he had taken most of it for himself. Whenever she had asked him for answers, he'd just shrugged and gave the most infuriatingly smug answer she'd ever heard him say.

"Well, you guys do eat up most of the food around the house anyway. You are pretty fat."

Just for that, she hit him in the face and locked him in the cupboard, ignoring his cries for help.

There was something _wrong _with the boy. For some reason, he wasn't turning out to be the way that Dumbledore wanted him to be; he wasn't becoming the kind, naive, and idiotically forgiving boy.

Something was...wrong.

"Why did you hit my precious Dinky Duddy-dums?" She accused him.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "He asked for it, and besides, he was pissing me off." He said simply, smirking.

"Did he call you a loser because of you being a freak?" She asked snidely.

"I don't care if people say I'm a freak. IF that's what I am, that's what I am," He said lazily.

Petunia found herself so pleased with the boy that she gave him an extra piece of food. She didn't hear the good chuckle the boy had behind her back.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter had <em>always<em> hated school. He'd always hated being told what to do, being forced to sit with whiny, annoying brats. But to be honest, he'd always found his attention drawn to the humans, to every single little aspect of what they were doing. He loved watching the teacher, watching her facial expressions, watching them change, wondering how on earth he could ever feel those feelings.

He wondered if he could ever smile, and he found that he couldn't. He didn't know how to feel love when the teacher praised him. He had never received any of that at home, so how on earth could he be expected to know what it was? He didn't.

He would just sometimes sit for hours watching his classmates, not doing his work, just watching them. His teachers noted his apathy when it came to his work and noted he was highly intelligent, but refrained from making friends. They never quite understood why, though.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Watching the humans," He replied simply.

"You know they'll never be a freak like you, don't you?" Dudley taunted.

For some reason, it didn't bother Harry. He just shrugged it off.

"You're Harry, then?" Hagrid said, looking down at the boy, who eyed him in amusement, but also with some degree of interest.

"You're a giant! I'm impressed," He said, was it just him or did that innocence sound like it was feigned? He could've sworn he'd seen a smirk play on the boy's face before it vanished.

"Mr. Potter, do you know what the answer to this question is?" Snape demanded, glaring at the boy before him.

Harry lounged back in his chair. "So what? I don't care. I don't care about any of this," He mumbled. Snape gave him a detention for that and deducted points from Gryffindor for his arrogant attitude, but still Harry didn't care. The other kids started avoiding him.

"Sir, Harry isn't acting how he should be acting. He's supposed to be the brave, kind leader of the Wizarding World, and yet he's not that way at all. He's a jerk, he's not interested in anything at all!" Hermione said, unable to believe the boy she admired since childhood could be like this.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, "Bring him before me."

A few spells and one good talk later, Harry was now smiling and acting like there was nothing wrong, never once suspecting that his whole life was a lie.

Many, many times they had to bring Harry before Dumbledore and have him convinced, through his words, that he had to care about others, that he had to no matter how many times they betrayed and misused him.

Years passed by and then the Tournament came.

Oh, Ron wasn't talking to him because of the Goblet incident. Why did he feel, oddly...pleased by that, if not satisfied? Oh, Hermione and Ron DID betray him, but everything was fine.

They explained everything to him. Everything was fine, right...right? He couldn't help but feel a sense of growing unease that something within him was not normal, not like it was with other wizarding children.

Cho burst out in tears, while Harry looked at her in bewilderment, watching her cry. Why the hell was she crying, dammit? It wasn't his fault Cedric died, and besides he was dead, this was supposed to be a meeting for him and her, so they could discuss their future together, right? He thought she only cared about him. How wrong he was.

"...Cho, why are you crying over a dead man? Isn't this supposed to be about you being happy here and now?"

She slapped his hand away, glaring at him. "What is wrong with you? Y-You D-Dark Lord in the making! N-No, you're worse than that...you're...you're a sociopath! I hate you!"

She stormed out, crying up a storm and of course all the accusations began again against Harry. It wasn't his fault. It never was. But no one believed him. Everyone else was wicked and cruel, while he was the only good person...or was he? He didn't know anymore.

He loved watching the wizards. He loved them, just as they did love him, didn't they...didn't they?

It hurt so much when Umbridge tortured him. But what hurt more was when Hermione and Ron wouldn't listen to him. It was because he wasn't a good enough savior. Heroes don't act like this. He had to do more, he couldn't let them hear him whining again about his abuse at the Dursleys.

"...Harry, your mother's love protected you. And your aunt loves you as well." Dumbledore said, which was a half-truth, for even though his mother had loved him, his aunt had nothing but hatred in her heart for him.

The boy resisted the urge to laugh. "Really?" He said, shedding tears. _'Someone could honestly...love me? How could that be, when I'm not even capable of love myself?' _

He knew that he was different. He always had been. He was a sociopath, he knew he was. He'd read about it in the Muggle dictionary and it fit him to a T.

* * *

><p>"Now, if Mr. Potter just throws himself out and challenges Voldemort, we can end this war and minimize casualties. The damage to the school will be repaired, and we will allow parents to be reunited with their children. Mr. Potter, please come forth."<p>

The voice of Severus Snape, the one who had stood by and allowed him to suffer...briefly, he thought over the few times he had begged and pleaded for forgiveness from him, but none had come. He remembered everything now...there was no sense in denying it.

He knew what they had done to him, they had toyed with his memories, with his thoughts, with his very personality, even. And all these thoughts caused his mentality to crack and snap in two, until there was nothing left...but madness. Pure and utter madness took its place. Or a few times where he had indeed acted as his true self.

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><p>"<em>Potter, aren't you going to save the mudblood?" Draco taunted.<em>

_Harry smirked. "Why should I care? She's just a traitor. Her life doesn't matter at all to me. I wouldn't care if she died."_

His fists tightened. He could feel every nerve in his body on fire...his fists tightened around his glasses. He'd discovered recently that he could see just fine without his glasses. He was lied to about his eyesight, it wasn't as bad as they said it was. Above all, he was starting to detest the word magic...he was starting to detest the wizards...all of it.

"Mr. Potter," Snape called, "Come on up here."

"_No_," He said, in a cool voice, as a smirk made its way on his face, "I'm not doing _any_ of your dirty work, Severus. I will not throw my life away for this society that I don't give a damn about."

All over, faces looked at him with expressions of shock, disgust, betrayal, fear, and even hatred.

"How can you? We stood up for you!"

"You're honestly going to let us die?"

"...What's wrong with you, Potter? Be a good savior!"

"The Boy-Who-Lived can't be like this!"

"Really? Like the time my whole Quidditch team turned on me for being abused by a teacher and they wouldn't do anything for me? Or how about the time where good old Runt ran out on Hermione and I and left us to freeze to death? How about the time you called me a freak for talking to snakes and none of the Gryffindor house would talk to me for weeks?" He accused. All over, people hissed curses and insults at him.

"...Or maybe, how about how you and Ron dragged me in front of the Headmaster and modified my memories? Don't think I don't remember it, because I know it all now and _everything_ has come back to me," He said, chuckling darkly.

"...Harry," Hermione whined.

"Shut up. That's the one thing I've been wanting to say to you from the start. You honestly think I_ didn't_ know what you guys were planning to do to me? You wanted to have me make children with Ginny, and then if I was to become crippled or injured while fighting Voldemort, then my life would be deemed useless, and I was to be killed. Or else I was to be wiped of my memories and kept as a useful puppet," He pronounced every word cruelly.

"You heard all of that?" Hermione said, tears of regret forming in her eyes. "...Harry, I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to...I really do care about you..."

But he wouldn't be swayed by her lies again.

"Damn it," Ron cursed.

"No regret, Ron? No regret for having told your friend that stuff? I'm disappointed. I expected more out of you. Actually, no, I didn't expect much out of you, Ron. You never were honest from the start. At least Malfoy was true about his feelings of hatred for me, unlike my two so-called friends who hid behind the veneer of love." He said darkly.

"Mr. Potter-" Snape began.

"Well, why should I show any sign of love for this society? Face it, from a young age, I was brought up to be a faceless soldier who would just do as you wanted me to do, and become a useful pawn who would die for the 'Greater' Good, as Dumbledore always used to say." He said mockingly.

"You have no right to say these words," Snape spat.

"Oh, but you have abused me all my life and yet you've gotten away with it, Snivellus. Don't tell me it was because of love for my mother or something. You never showed any of that love for me." Harry said, "And because of that, I don't care about any of this stuff. I can't honestly care anymore, because whatever sense of self I have has been torn away from me, after the way that you and this entire school have thrust me into dangerous situations, deprived me of learning, of friendship and love, year after year."

He turned to face his audience. "Where shall we begin? Let's start with first year; I was living in hell on earth with the Dursleys. Did the name cupboard under the stairs not give any indication as to what I was going through? I was forced to fight a troll when no teachers would come to the defense of Hermione."

"We were busy," Snape said.

"Not only that, but Dumbledore allowed Slytherins to nearly die. Not that I would care now, but still that isn't good, is it? And let's not forget how Ron, Hermione and I, eleven-year olds had to destroy an evil wizard, instead of the adults being the ones to do so. Then, I was thrust back into hell at the Dursleys. Let's go to year two, where I was thought of as being evil because I happened to be next to a wall written in blood. There was a girl who went around being possessed and turning people to stone, yet this school didn't close. The school didn't close even though half of these people were being petrified. You knew, every single year, that all of these dangerous things happened, and yet you never told anyone, you never did anything about it."

"But-" He began.

"You and the other teachers never lifted a finger to help me, with the exception of Hagrid, Lupin, and the others. Oh, and year Three, I was nearly killed by a crazed killer who was actually my godfather, and I was forced to fight off dementors, soul-sucking creatures to save his life, but he died anyway. He actually wanted me to come live with him, but I was forced to go back to the same hell I was forced to call home every year."

He shrugged his shoulders and walked back and forth, surveying all the students and Voldemort's amused face. Clearly, he was enjoying this, knowing the boy would surely come to his side now. How wrong he was.

"...And worst of all, year four. The whole school turns against me for being enrolled in a disgusting tournament of death I never wanted to be in. It was kind of fun watching everyone die, but I'm used to that, seeing as you people are sadists who like to make me suffer. Let's see, there was also holding innocent people hostage in the tournament, and Cedric was killed. And no one had any degree of rational thought. You all decided I must be lying or crazy to insist that Voldemort was back, and wrote it up in your newspapers and spread lies about me." He said, watching everyone look at him with horrified eyes, but to his surprise, none of them looked the least bit sorry about it.

"...And worst of all, year five. Dumbbelldore feels free to spy on me with his Order, withholds the truth from me and letters from my friends, allows me to never know a single thing about what's going on. And then...Umbitch comes into the picture."

"You watch your tone," Fudge cried. "Your lying ends now-"

"Oh, Fudge, you're such a fool," He said, "You haven't been reinstated as a minister. And already, you think you're so great. Well, you aren't. And this woman tortures me constantly, with no help from McGonagall or the others. And Sirius dies, and everyone is angry with me for trying to kill Bellatrix. And last year, everyone tried to drug me and Dumbles used me as a pawn once more. And now, you expect, after all of that crap I've been through..."

He turned to regard the other Weasleys, who still looked hopeful.

"And don't think I don't know about _your_ betrayal, Ginny, and Molly. You were plotting to use me so you could use my money to share among the Wizarding public for helping you survive and make yourselves into heroes. Because who better than the friends of the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"It wasn't like that!" Molly begged.

"Oh, then why did you say you couldn't remember where platform nine and three quarters was? It seems pretty silly for a wizard or witch to forget all that. Nope, I should've had my suspicions from the start."

"Will you join us, then?" Voldemort said, smiling upon hearing all this. The Death Eaters all looked quite interested as well, Potter had opened his eyes!

"Sorry," He said with a snap of his fingers, "But I don't think I'm interested in magic anymore. I think I'll toy with something else. And from now on, Harry Potter is dead. I'm going to go apparate and then shoot myself in the head. Bye!" He cried out, and with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

And sure enough, when they went to investigate, they found Harry Potter lying on the ground with his brains blown out. What they didn't know, however, was that this Harry was a fake and that Harry had actually made someone else look just like him and kill them, smirking while he did so.

"It's too bad they did this to me," He said, smashing his glasses and then snapping his wand in two, and then disappearing. And so, Harry Potter was thought to be dead, even though the truth was never known to anyone but him.

* * *

><p>-Eight years later, in a ward of Tokyo known as Ikebukuro, Japan-<p>

"IIIIIIIIIIZZZZZAAAAAYAAAAAAAA, GET OUT OF IKEBUKURO!"

A booming voice could be heard in the busy ward of downtown Ikebukuro. All the residents turned in time to see a blond man with sunglasses; wearing a bartender outfit rip out a vending machine from the road, and throw it at someone, shouting curses at the top of his lungs, yet the other was completely amused by this.

"Shizu-chan, your aim is too slow," The man yelled out, his crimson eyes full of delight as he dodged every blow the man threw at him, with a playful smirk on his face.

"How can you dodge that?" Shizuo protested, "It's like you're magic-"

The black-haired young man, wearing a fur jacket that was just as dark as his hair, paused, and then glared at Shizuo Heiwajima. "Don't ever say that word again, Shizu-chan. I hate it," He said as he pulled out his switchblade and slashed at Shizuo's shirt.

"Damn you!" Shizuo cried as he threw something at him.

IT didn't work. The man let out a loud cackle of delight as he watched his humans watching him play with his worst enemy, Shizu-chan.

"Disgusting, Shizu-chan. You're just a monster, through and through," He purred; the twenty-five year old man licking his lips. Izaya Orihara smirked at Shizuo.

"Yeah, well,_ you're_ the inhuman one," Shizuo growled.

Izaya's eyebrows rose ever so slightly at that. "I take offense to that, Shizu-chan. Now, if you need me, I'll be on my merry little way now~," And before Shizuo's wide eyes, Izaya ran off.

"That damned flea! Why does he always run off like that?"

Izaya managed to successfully shake off Shizuo, walking amongst the crowd, putting his hands in his jacket, thinking about things.

"Mommy, mommy, look, it's a magic show!"

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly upon hearing that word. Magic. The memories flowed back into his mind, memories of those who'd used him, the memories of those who'd betrayed him. And still-his fists tightened around his switchblade-and Harry Potter, no _Izaya Orihara, h_ad to force himself to stop.

Slowly, the informant stopped and turned to study a poster that indeed said magic on it. Looking at it with great disdain, he ripped the picture down from the wall, slashed it in two with his blade, then tossed it on the ground and stomped on it.

"How does that feel, huh?" He said. "That's what you bastards get. You'll never drag me back into your little war again, because Harry Potter is dead."

A satisfied grin made its way on his face as he strolled back to his office. And so, Harry Potter was never found again because Izaya Orihara was in his place, and no desire did he have to return to the world that betrayed him, so they wound up destroying each other without his help.

Because what you don't notice about a person can mean the difference between life and death, between destruction and living, between happiness and pain. And Izaya Orihara chose the middle path-the path of running away and living as a Muggle, and he was happy to the end of his days.

-The end-


End file.
